


a love made by hand

by sunfair



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfair/pseuds/sunfair
Summary: Bitty, Jack, their newborn baby, and a gift.





	a love made by hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emalilly23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emalilly23/gifts).



> my prompt was: "fluff. domestic happiness." I hope this comes close!

Jack and Bitty get to bring their daughter home on a Thursday afternoon, just one day after she enters the world, all six and a half pounds of her bundled up snug and wailing as loud as her tiny lungs will let her. It’s nearly September but it still feels like summer, bright and hot. They pull carefully into their two-car garage and spend long, precious minutes figuring out how to unlatch her car seat from the base to finally bring her safely inside.

They’ve waited a very long time for this-- ten hours of labor, after months and months of the pregnancy, on top of nearly two years hoping to be chosen. All after the lengthy process of compiling a profile, attending pre-adoption classes, and meeting with caseworkers for home studies. It doesn’t quite seem real but it somehow is, her hair silky and sparse along the curve of her little head, her big dark eyes gazing unfixed at Bitty’s face. He feeds her a bottle, her tiny mouth moving eagerly as Jack peers on in wonder over Bitty’s shoulder. 

Bitty’s not sure what else they could have possibly done to prepare for her arrival. They have a beautiful nursery that they decorated and painted themselves, they’re stocked with supplies and gadgets, and they studied countless first-time parenting books and articles. Both Suzanne and the Zimmermanns had offered to come stay, to be there to help when she arrived, but Bitty and Jack discussed it at length, and were determined to forge this new path on their own.

“Just for the first few weeks, Mama,” Bitty explained over the phone for at least the third time. “We wanna get settled, y’know? Then we’d be more than happy to have you up to visit.”

“Oh Dicky,” she’d sighed, resigned. “You just don’t know-- ”

“Mama please,” Bitty interjected, keeping his tone light. “It’ll still be the offseason when she gets here. Jack and I will be just fine.”

“Well, you call me,” Suzanne said, her tone serious. “Anytime you need to, all right?”

“Of course,” Bitty replied.

The first day or so they’re consumed with pride and wonder, fielding congratulatory calls from family and friends, and documenting nearly every moment with photos and video. They count ounces of formula, they count diapers, they count her little fingers and toes over and over as they bathe her for the first time. Bitty marvels at how tiny she is, how precious and perfect tucked against Jack’s chest. Neither of them can resist pressing countless tender kisses to her head, and tracing the delicate curl of her ears.

Everything they read told them infants are meant to sleep a lot, but somehow their daughter didn’t seem to get that memo. They make a genuine attempt to take turns with her at night, but it’s all still so new, and once Bitty’s awake he can’t bring himself to just lie there and listen to her fuss while Jack makes his way downstairs to warm her formula. So they shuffle together, one of them holding her close, the other assembling the bottle, bleary-eyed and sluggish, night after endless night.

By the time Monday morning rolls in, Bitty thinks they might be losing it. He aches all the way to his bones with weariness. His eyes feel rough and scratchy, and his head is throbbing. Jack doesn’t look much better; he’s sifting through their bathroom cabinet for painkillers that neither of them can remember moving. He looks pale beneath his five-day stubble, save the huge dark circles under his eyes. 

“She’s finally out,” Bitty says quietly, his words slurring. He thinks about all the laundry, the dishes, the overflowing trash that need his attention. He should eat breakfast; he can’t even remember what he had for dinner. He probably also needs a shower, but even that feels insurmountable. 

“Okay,” Jack says, still sifting through the cabinet.

“I think I need to lie down.”

“Okay,” Jack says again.

Bitty climbs into their bed, and before he can even stretch out, the baby monitor crackles to life, a long piercing wail filling the room.

Bitty thinks he might collapse into the pillow and cry.

“I’ll get her,” Jack says, scrubbing at his eyes, shuffling out into the hall. He leaves the entire contents of the medicine cabinet scattered across the bathroom counter.

Bitty slowly sits up and reaches for his phone while Jack’s gentle voice filters through the monitor, calm and placating.

Suzanne picks up on the first ring. Bitty doesn’t even register what she says by way of a greeting; just the sound of her cheerful voice makes him start to cry.

“Mama,” he says, his voice quivering. “She won’t sleep for us at all. We don’t know what else to do.”

Suzanne calmly asks him a few questions, precautionary things; is she eating, is she feverish, ruling out anything alarming. She reassures Bitty there’s nothing wrong; this is just what it’s like. His heart sinks heavily, and he sniffs hard, swiping at his eyes. 

“I do know one thing you could try,” she says. “You could let me come up there and hold that baby, so you two can get some rest.”

It’s hard not to feel like they’re failing. Suzanne gets on the last available flight that evening, and Bitty makes a meager effort to clean up before she arrives. Jack tries to help, but they don’t quite manage to finish the dishes or sweep the floor or even clear the table before she’s there, pulling a rolling suitcase in behind her.

Suzanne immediately takes the baby and sends them up to bed, putting her foot down as Bitty tries to keep running the broom along the kitchen tile.

“Shoo, quit that,” she insists. “All this can wait. We don’t want to see you for at least a few hours. Go on, now.”

At first Bitty doesn’t think he can fall asleep, even as exhausted as he is. Jack hits the pillow and doesn’t move, breathing slow and steady within a handful of minutes. Bitty turns over, blinking at the bedside clock, wondering if he remembered to tell his mama where the baby wipes are.

The next thing he knows he’s jerking awake again, his heart beating hard in the dark quiet of the room. Jack hasn’t moved, and Bitty blinks until he can focus on the clock, drawing in a quick breath. It’s late, so late it’s almost early, and it’s been hours and he hasn’t heard the baby--

He’s almost to his feet before he remembers that his mama is there. He checks the baby’s room first, but her crib is empty. He finally finds them downstairs, the baby safe and sleeping in his mama’s arms on the sofa, the TV on low.

Bitty tucks himself up next to them, leaning on his mama’s shoulder. “She doing okay?” he whispers.

“She’s just fine,” his mama replies quietly, sounding so proud. “She’s perfect. She just wants to snuggle.”

Bitty hums in reply, content, letting his heavy eyes drift shut again. “Thanks, Mama.”

When he wakes up the next time, he’s still on the sofa, covered with a throw blanket. The sunlight is bright in the room, and he can hear Jack and his mama chatting quietly in the kitchen. The strong smell of coffee lures him to his feet.

Bitty’s not sure what looks better-- his spotless kitchen, or his clean-shaven husband holding his favorite mug. Jack hands it over with a brief kiss, the scent of his aftershave tingling sharply in Bitty’s nose. The monitor on the counter stays blissfully quiet.

“Mornin’, Dicky,” his mama says, getting into the fridge. “How many eggs do you want?”

“Mmh,” Bitty hums, taking a quick sip of his coffee. “All of them, please.”

That afternoon, while Jack takes a turn feeding the baby on the sofa, Suzanne sets a small gift bag on the coffee table in front of them. It’s pastel striped, pink-blue-and-green with yellow tissue paper tucked into the top. Bitty looks at Jack, but it’s clear from his expression that he doesn’t know what it is, either.

“Now, I was gonna wait on this,” his mama explains with a grin, settling into the adjacent chair. “But I just can’t stand to. Go on, open it.”

“Oh Mama, you didn’t have to.”

Bitty takes the bag and tugs gently at the paper, pulling it free. They’ve been the recipients of endless gifts leading up to and since the baby’s arrival, clothes and shoes and blankets, and all manner of little books and toys, sometimes in duplicate. Bitty’s so grateful for the outpouring of care and support, but they already have far more than they’ll ever need. He peeks into the bag and starts to reach in, suddenly going still.

“Oh… Mama,” Bitty says again, in awe this time, almost a whisper. His throat closes up as his fingers trace along the soft, slender ears, the sewn-on nose.

Jack tries to lean closer to see, and Bitty gently pulls the bunny from the bag. It’s Señor Bun but it’s not; it’s entirely brand new, a pristine version pulled right from Bitty’s childhood.

“Aw,” Jack says. “Cute.”

“I hope she likes it as much as you liked yours,” his mama says. “I had to dig up all kinds of pictures just so I could remember how to make it, what colors to use and everything.”

“She’ll love it,” Bitty says, blinking his tears back. “She’s gonna love it so much, Mama, thank you.”

He stands up to give her a hug, folding his arms around her, still holding the bunny, like he’s done as far back as he can remember.

Mademoiselle Lapin lives on a shelf for a few months, waiting until the time when her paws and ears can be clutched in tiny fists, her nose and eyes disappearing repeatedly into a curious mouth. She’s cuddled and hugged, dropped and squealed at, looked after and infinitely, endlessly loved.


End file.
